Chapter 3 - THE RETURN TO WESTCHESTER
The heavy iron gates of the Cross estate swung open silently, allowing the convoy of three black armored SUVs to roll up the long, winding driveway.
I looked out the tinted window of the lead vehicle. Nothing had changed about the grounds. The sprawling brick mansion sat nestled among towering oak trees, surrounded by manicured lawns, high security walls, and armed men in dark suits stationed every fifty yards.
To the outside world, it was an executive sanctuary. To me, it was the golden cage I had escaped five years ago.
In the seat beside me, Leo, Julian, and Sam were pressed against the glass, their small mouths open in awe.
"Is this a castle, Mom?" Sam whispered, clutching his plush bear.
"It's just a big house, sweetie," I said, my hand tightening over my purse.
Gabriel sat across from us in the rear-facing captain's chair. His eyes hadn't left my face since we exited Manhattan. He looked at me with an intense, unreadable hunger, as if trying to bridge the gap of five lost years in a single evening.
"They like the estate," Gabriel offered quietly, his deep voice cutting through the hum of the engine.
"They like fairy tales, Gabriel," I replied coldly. "They don't understand what this place really is."
"It's their birthright," he said firmly.
"It's a fortress surrounded by enemies," I countered. "Don't confuse the two."
The SUV pulled up to the front entrance. Viktor, Gabriel’s head of security, opened our door. The night air was cool and crisp, carrying the scent of autumn leaves and wet stone.
Gabriel stepped out first, extending his hand to help me down. I ignored his hand, stepping past him to gather the boys. Gabriel’s jaw clenched slightly, but he didn't press the issue.
We walked into the grand foyer. The marble floors, cathedral ceilings, and sweeping double staircase were exactly as I remembered them. A middle-aged woman in a crisp housekeeper's uniform was standing near the foot of the stairs, her hands clasped tightly.
When she saw me, her eyes filled with tears. "Mrs. Cross..."
"Hello, Mrs. Gable," I said softly, a small, genuine smile breaking through my tension. Mrs. Gable had been the only person in this house who had shown me genuine warmth during my marriage.
"Oh, merciful heaven," Mrs. Gable breathed, dropping to her knees as the three little boys trotted up behind me. "They look just like him... three little Mr. Gabriels."
"Prepare the master wing rooms for them," Gabriel ordered smoothly, stepping into the hall. "And have the chef prepare whatever they want for dinner."
"Right away, sir," Mrs. Gable said, wiping her eyes before offering the boys a warm smile. "Who wants chocolate chip pancakes for dinner?"
All three boys raised their hands enthusiastically, forgetting their shyness in an instant. Mrs. Gable led them toward the kitchen, leaving Gabriel and me standing alone in the vast, echoing foyer.
The silence returned, heavy and suffocating.
"Where is she?" I asked, looking up at the high balcony that led to the east wing.
"In my father's old study in the basement," Gabriel said, his tone devoid of any emotion. "A room with no windows and reinforced doors."
"Gabriel, what did she do?"
Gabriel stepped closer, his shadow falling over me. He smelled of cedarwood, expensive tobacco, and rain—the familiar scent that used to mean safety to me before it turned into betrayal.
"Five years ago, after you left, Serena moved into the guest cottage on the property," Gabriel began, his voice low. "She claimed she wanted to support me through the divorce. But six months after you vanished, she tried to convince me to transfer a massive portfolio of port logistics real estate into a private trust under her family's name."
"Why?"
"Because her father was deeply in debt to the Moretti family in Chicago," Gabriel revealed, his gray-green eyes darkening. "She wasn't just my mistress, Claire. She was an asset sent to bleed me dry from the inside."
I stared at him, stunned. "And the affair? The night I saw her on your desk?"
Gabriel froze. His breath hitched sharply. "You... you saw us?"
"I came to your office three nights before you asked for the divorce," I said, my voice trembling with five years of held-back pain. "I brought your migraine medicine. The elevator doors opened, and there she was. You were kissing her, Gabriel. You looked at her like she was your entire world."
Gabriel looked as if he had been shot. He took a staggering step back, dragging a hand through his dark hair. "God... Claire, no..."
"Don't lie to me now, Gabriel!" I snapped, tears burning my eyes. "I saw it with my own eyes! You divorced me three days later!"
"I divorced you to protect your life!" Gabriel roared, his voice echoing off the marble walls like a thunderclap.
I stopped, paralyzed by his words.
Gabriel closed his eyes, his chest heaving as he fought for control. When he opened them, they were swimming with an agony I had never seen in him before.
"The Morettis had placed a hit on my wife," Gabriel whispered, his voice cracking. "They sent me a photograph of you sitting in your garden, with a red laser dot resting on your forehead. They told me if I didn't step down or give them the ports, they would kill you. I couldn't fight them while you were sitting in this house as a target. I needed you gone. I needed you detached from my name so you would be safe."
He took a step toward me, his hands shaking violently.
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"Serena was the distraction," Gabriel continued softly. "I staged that affair in my office knowing my security cameras were monitored by Moretti's men. I needed them to think I had moved on from you, that you were worthless to me, so they would take their scopes off your chest. I gave you the divorce papers to save your life, Claire."
I stood frozen in the grand foyer, the foundation of my entire five-year reality crumbling into dust beneath my feet.
